


grundlagenkrise der mathematik

by spooky_vulpix



Series: Pokemon Oneshots [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions, Pokemon
Genre: A discussion of ideologies by dumb teenagers, An attempt at worldbuilding, F/M, He's also having a bad time, Hilda being a bad influence, Hilda has a Jersey accent, N being a creep, N does not understand social norms, N is a Jerkass Woobie, N is not nice, Unovan Culture, its heavily implied that both hilda and n are not neurotypical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooky_vulpix/pseuds/spooky_vulpix
Summary: n dislikes that hilda refuses to take a side. it makes him angry.at least, with his enemies, there's a certain understanding. alder, the gym leaders, her friend cheren, he knows where he stands with them.with her, it is shades of gray, and half muttered little somethings, an avoidance of truths, a careful sidestep of any ideals.





	grundlagenkrise der mathematik

It is quite odd, he thinks to himself, the understanding that they have, now. They can sit like this, looking out at the grass on Route 6, sitting on the picnic tables outside of the trainer hostel, and while he logically knows the Shadow Triad are somewhere in the nearby vicinity, it feels like the two of them are alone.

(Excepting, the Pokemon, obviously, obviously, and he can feel just the edge of _teethhungerrunrunrunrunwarmsafesaf-_ running like an ever present train track, the buzz when he doesn't focus on a specific Pokémon, a constant stream of information to be cataloged later, into a formula that will let him learn even more, that dream of using that knowledge to truly save them from-)

Trainers. None but them here right now. But he is absolutely loathe to think of himself as even occupying the same space, a similar mental state as a trainer.

But where they are now, not as many trainers make it here, most of the traffic is for the research lab. (Research! He scoffs internally. What do you expect to obtain from that sort of arrogance, other than broadening your own misconceptions and ignorance?) The only person to greet them, a young woman speaking rapid French to someone on a Pokegear with a cracked screen, gave them a little wave, and pushed a sign-in sheet at them. He did not put down his real name, naturally. She did, and it made him want to roll his eyes, as if it matters if you put down the name on your trainer i.d, as if a minimum wage worker somewhere like this, would ever follow up or even care what you put. (Not as if his true name was even on his trainer i.d.)

 

They've been there since last night, and the woman has given them watery smiles and asked them if they wanted her to turn on the small television in the lobby, or for her to brew some coffee, to which he said no, and Hilda said yes, and they drank watery coffee, his, black with lots of sugar, and her's with as much non-dairy creamer as she could handle, sitting on a worn couch, as Hilda thumbed through an old fashion magazine with that contemptible Elesa woman striking a pose that was probably meant to be alluring on the cover.

 

But oddly relaxing, in it's own sort of way, this routine, where they are not quite enemies, nor quite comrades. He doesn't try to convince her, and she does not speak of facts that she obviously knows. 

 

For now, he can question as to why a trainer would even interact with him in this manner, this easy going, honey sweet way, with someone who considers himself an enemy to all that she values,someone who would burn her and all she cares about for his goals without hesitation or even true regret. It is quite odd. It frustrates him, how she is obviously intelligent, and yet, does not even try to argue any type of point. He would have more progress convincing her friend Bianca, all hesitation and fumbling tries at empathy for her Pokémon, of his point of view, and he mentally places that thought on a to-do list.

 

Hilda simply sees and focuses too much on humans, on Pokémon, as individuals and not as part of a greater, ticking system, lacking a key variable in her understanding. Sometimes it's enough to make him want to scream, or insult her. But he doesn't. N sits, and watches, and waits for her to fully realize, what, exactly, being chosen for something even means. Someone who has strong truth, strong ideals, and the wherewithal to incite change. Like the two Heroes of ancient times. N doesn't understand why someone seemingly so lacking in a dream, in a life's purpose, could be this important. But she is.

 

He looks at her, slicing an apple into haphazard, uneven slivers. Not even placing it onto the table to steady it. It annoys him, like many of the things that she does. It reminds him of the way she battles, how she throws her strongest Pokémon out first, usually Pignite (now a strong male Emboar with a Jolly nature, he reminds himself), to give a hard and aggressive strike first. Reckless. His fingers twitch in irritation, but not quite into a fist.

 

It would be infinitely more efficient, N thinks to himself, if she would just cut the apple into halves, then quarters, and finally into neat clean eighths, rather than the uneven joke she's making of it. Even the way that Hilda slices _apples_ lacks conviction. 

 

"Ah! Shit! Almost cut myself there! Well, it's not like I learned, uh, knife discipline? Knife discipline?", she says, waving a small hand around. 

 

Quite odd. He didn't notice just how small she was. 

 

No cuts. Although her reaction to physical pain of that sort would be admittedly interesting to see. Information to store away for later.

 

"I am not sure what you are attempting to ask me.", he half laughs. She hands him a ragged little slice, and he starts to eat.

 

"Is the term knife discipline? I mean, guess it doesn't matter a bit 'cause I obvs don't have whatever it is, but I'm just, curious I guess? You seem like you have a broad, um, knowledge base? I don't even know, dude, I don't even know..." 

 

Hilda laughs, and pulls up her legs, crosses them underneath herself neatly. N tells himself to stop gawking. For some reason, he ends up looking at her the way that a Zoroark watches for motion in the underbrush, and it is confusing, how the moving of her muscles and skin and clothes is so very interesting that he doesn't even try to chide her for using a made-up nonsense word like "obvs".

 

He knows Ghetsis or one of the Seven Sages would have corrected her immediately, like when he went through a phase of mixing in German words with his English, or Spanish with his Latin, for the sheer fun of it because of the linguistic similarities, and received a stern reprimand from Sage Ryoku for being hard to understand.

 

"I am just as in the dark about that as you are, Hilda. I know about Pokémon that have, what would be described by as humans as knife-like appendages, such as Scyther, or Sneasal. Did you know that a Scyther's blades are sharpened each time it uses them, and that it moves so fast the human eye cannot even register the movement? I would rather have a Scyther cut fruit for me than watch a human fumble with a blade. It would be exceedingly efficient."

 

Hilda gives him a look, that he knows might be of confusion, but could just as easily be pity or scorn, but he cannot parse it even a little. For one sharp moment, he wants to hit her face or pull her long hair, to give her a look he would understand.

 

Then she leans her head back onto the wood and lets out a bark of a laugh. Her freckles show up more in the spring sun, and he notices, that they dust her nose and cheeks and even a little around her full mouth. N tells himself to stop staring. It is unbecoming behavior for a King, to gawk at someone of a lower station. But it reminds him a bit of of a Deerling's seasonal form, that even a human would shift colors in the season. Strange. 

 

"Are you always on? Is that it? Suuuuper wound up tight, huh? You must be so tense, being that on all the time. On, on, on. You ever just relax a bit?" 

 

She takes a bite of apple, but does it in a way that irritates him. Hilda pushes it a little bit into her mouth, takes a dainty little bite, and eats it in tiny segments. 

Remarkably wasteful of time. 

N shakes his head.

"There's always work to be done. The future that Tea- no, the future that I want... there is not any room for inefficiency, or for mistakes. So yes, I am always "on", as you rather imprudently phrased it."

 

Hilda grins cheekily at him.

 

"You sound like Cheren. He's such a stick in the mud. 'Blah, blah, blah, you're doing that wrong!' Like I can't even tie my own shoelaces right, sometimes, hah. Did you know we used to date? His idea. Weirdest four months of my life. Still like that bossy little fucker, though."

 

N mentally adds this to his internal file on both Cheren and Hilda. If she likes him, why is she insulting him? You are romantically interested in people and are friends with people that you get along with and like, he thinks. N does not understand, but he tries to look like he is paying full attention. He reminds himself to nod, so he does and makes a "Hm" sound. 

 

"Hey, you wanna check out the Sawsbuck Shrine while we're here? It seems like it would be up your alley, you can ring the bell and leave some berries for the Pokémon and make a wish for the Sawsbuck to help your dick work better or something. No seriously, it's a fertility shrine for some reason, and it's supposed to be cool to visit if you're going on a shrine tour. Tourists love goofy shit like that. Easier to get to than the Abundant Shrine, I guess. Oh! My Bubbe had a Sawsbuck figurine, one of those little porcelain things, but it broke when Tornadus flew over Floccesy last year. Along with all her other ones, too, I guess."

 

She looks at him expectantly, her legs uncrossed and on the ground, as if she expects to go immediately running off. He cannot blame her for not knowing, not realizing that he would not ever go to a Pokémon shrine, even if invited by someone with kind intentions. N knows Hilda is trying to be kind, but he does not censor himself for her sake.

 

"I am sorry, but I cannot accept that offer. I believe that Pokémon shrines are abominable. As if Pokémon have nothing better to do, than field the requests of foolish humans! Even if it's as benign as a wish for increased fertility, it is a waste of the vast potential that Pokémon have, to-"

 

"N. Seriously. It's okay. You don't have to justify that. Your opinion on this is valid, and I totally respect that. Let's just drink more of that bad coffee and eat vending machine food and watch Poké Ranger reruns or something. It's totally cool with me." She raises her shoulders, rolls them. Takes another slice of apple and eats it in that annoying way. 

 

And that is the final straw. Hilda's lack of anger, or excitement, or even any type of strong opposition. Too used to being the mediator between her friends, or regulating her mother's moods, most likely. Going along with the flow, her vibrancy and that passion N knows is there, dulled into a middling gray. 

 

His eye twitches.

 

"What is wrong with you? I just insulted something that most trainers, even most Unovans would consider to be important. Pokémon worship is as old as human civilization, even if I find it to be immoral, patronizing and a waste of time for everyone involved! Don't you have any kind of conviction or opinions on this? You told me you had a dream, but you never even said what it was! Is this all just...just, utterly meaningless to you? A fun lark? The future that I saw had you acting as a true oppositional force to me, but it seems I may have been mistaken, Hilda."

 

The lazy smile drops from her face, and the look that spreads across her features is exactly the one she wears during a battle, in the most intense moments. N almost regrets goading her into a response, ruining the honey sweet way she's been treating him. He tenses, expecting her to fire back lightning quick. Sharp, dark words, dripping with disdain for him, and they would hurt, and he would have an excuse to leave, abandoning the pretext of gathering information on a rival and he could return to Team Plasma, and explain the time gap as wanting to study the local Pokémon population in greater detail, and ask the Shadow Triad to not, not, not tell Ghetsis about this, ever and-

 

Hilda sighs.

 

"Oh, _N_..."

 

Hilda looks at him, directly in the eye despite the height difference. N forces himself to hold her gaze. 

 

"Don't mistake my kindness to you for weakness. I know that there's nothing I could ever say right now, that would ever convince you, that maybe, just maybe, things are capable of being _multi-fucking-faceted_ sometimes, that maybe, there are multiple dimensions to things. Or even, that I do have views on stuff, I just don't make it my entire life. I'm not going to bother right now. Because then, we'd both just end up fighting again, and maybe even having a battle or something. Neither of us wanna do that right now, okay. I don't wanna do that. My Pokémon are tired, I'm tired. You're tired, okay? We're both taking a break from this bullshit, alright?"

 

Hilda sighs and theatrically throws up her arms, folding the knife and putting it back into her bag.

 

"Shit, that... that came out a lot harsher than I thought. Sorry. Well, um, I'm going to be on the couch if you wanna not miss Overgrowth Man or whoever getting beat up."

 

Hilda turned and walked back inside. 

 

She left the apple, he thought, and barely even ate any of it. How wasteful.

**Author's Note:**

> it's the united regions of america, because, you know, lt. surge is the lightning american. region =/= country, i have no idea why that bugs me so much in fic, so i fixed it. always kind of bugged me how unova is so far away from real life new york and jersey, and how weirdly over the top everything about gen V was in general, but i rolled with it and added some... world building pizzazz! hence, the woman speaks french, because kalos is a region of france (because it doesn't have southern france and corsica), and remember the french pikachu from hg/ss? it's been a decade and i still do. 
> 
>  
> 
> anywhomst, wew lad, that n sure has some issues. hope he sorts them out sometime soon, lmao. it's not cool to be a big old creep. 
> 
> pwease leave a review.


End file.
